Here you will find the Poem Definition of Creative Art of poet Boris Pasternak
With shirt wide open at the collar, Maned as Beethoven's bust, it stands; Our conscience, dreams, the night and love, Are as chessmen covered by its hands. And one black king upon the board: In sadness and in rage, forthright It brings the day of doom.-Against The pawn it brings the mounted knight. In gardens where from icy spheres The stars lean tender, linger near, Tristan still sings, like a nightingale On Isolde's vine, with trembling fear. The gardens, ponds, and fences, made pure By burning tears, and the whole great span, Creation-are only burst of passion Hoarded in the hearts of men.
